


a map to the beginning

by bydayorbynight



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Michael Guerin Needs a Hug, Mostly Canon Compliant, POV Michael Guerin, Sad Michael Guerin, pre 1x01, the lost decade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26632510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bydayorbynight/pseuds/bydayorbynight
Summary: Michael tries to find out what happened to Alex in Iraq. Max does a nice thing. Isobel plans a parade.—A version of events leading up to the pilot.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	a map to the beginning

“Oh no. Alex?”

From across the Wild Pony, all the hairs on Michael’s neck stood on end. If there was one name that could pierce through the commotion of a Saturday night out, it was that one. He looked up towards the other side of the room, where Maria was behind the bar, one hand pressing against a wet rag, the other clutching a phone to her ear tensely.

“Is he...oh. Oh my God,” She exhaled shallowly, almost in a whisper. Michael wasn’t quite sure why he was even able to hear what she was saying over the chatter and country music and occasional yelling, but he was staring directly at her, every word and pause a piece to a puzzle he needed to complete. The lingering taste of his last swig of whiskey had turned overwhelmingly bitter in his mouth.

“Um, are you gonna go?” Lindsay, or maybe it was Lizzie, was holding a pool stick, looking at him expectantly.

“I...I gotta piss.” He grabbed his hat and started walking towards the restrooms before making a sharp left towards the door. He stole a backwards glance at Maria, who had finished up her phone call and was now mechanically wiping down the same spot on the bar, looking like she might cry. He thought about turning around and marching towards her, demanding to know what was happening, what had happened to Alex. But there was no way to do that without inviting a line of questioning for which he was also at a loss for answers. So he pushed through the exit and into the cold night air. His tab was getting long.

* * *

Back in the relative warmth and quiet of his truck, still parked at the bar, Michael took out his phone and absentmindedly typed “Baghdad” into the search bar. He didn’t really know what he thought he’d find, or if Alex was even in Baghdad anymore. He had heard that from a snippet of conversation a few months back between Maria and her mom, again at the bar, seemingly his only avenue for Alex Updates.

**Roadside bomb kills 3, injures 2 in Baghdad**

**No casualties after IED explodes in Baghdad**

**Death toll rises in Iraq as fighting drags on**

The headlines were from the last few months, not the last few days, so he didn’t think they were Alex. Maybe it was too soon. And he probably needed more specific search terms. But now he was down the rabbit hole, scrolling through stories and images of soldiers getting killed, injured, maimed, suffering from PTSD, lives irrevocably changed, and he tossed his phone onto the floor of the passenger seat in distress before he could read more. He felt that familiar sting behind his eyes and his chest getting tight so he scrunched up his face, swallowed the lump in his throat, and turned the key in the ignition before he could let those feelings fully crash down upon him.

* * *

“Hi.”

Alex was laying in the small Airstream bed on his side, one elbow propped up to support his head. He was wearing a slight smile, like when you’re about to tell a joke, or trying to keep a good secret. And he was staring at Michael, who was just starting to stir from a restless sleep.

Michael did not remember falling asleep with Alex, but he supposed he must have come in when he was sleeping. Either way, cool morning rays were cascading through the small window above them and he figured he might as well get up.

“You’re back,” Michael said quietly as he opened his eyes, squinting at the sun and Alex in its glow.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Alex was still smiling.

“I don’t know, Alex, it seems like you go out of your way to not come back sometimes.” As much as Michael had wanted to preserve this light, impossible moment, the words tumbled out of him more angrily than he expected, and now the anger was fueling itself, self-sustaining and growing stronger. Alex’s face fell a little bit, but in a way that could still be salvaged with a few well-placed words. 

Michael found himself unable to stem the ugly emotions that had very quickly bubbled to the surface despite his best intentions. “It’s like you’re avoiding me. Like you don’t want to go deeper on this because you’ll actually have to be honest about who you are. You pushed me away, like some test, and I guess I failed.”

“Michael, I...”

“You chose your dad over me. After what he did to me, to us! And now who knows if I’ll ever see you again? I don’t know where you are or if you’re even still alive. And no one will bother to tell me. Because why would they? It’s like we didn’t even exist, like none of it ever happened!” Michael paused and took a breath. “You know, I actually wish that were true so I wouldn’t have to feel this way right now.”

Alex looked more confused than hurt. “Wha-“

Michael woke in the dark with a jolt, tears in his eyes.

* * *

“We’re closed.”

It was just after lunch and Maria was sitting at the bar counting cash, her back to the door. Over the years she had started to recognize the footfalls of her small-town regulars, and Michael Guerin was no exception.

Michael gave her a crooked smile through the mirror. “Can’t I say hi to a friend? I was passing through and just wanted to know how your day was going.”

Maria spun around on the barstool, a little perplexed but mostly guarded, steeling herself for whatever charade Michael had up his sleeve. “Friends. Very funny, Guerin. What do you really want?”

Michael put his hands in his pockets and shrugged slightly. “I really just wanted to see how you were doing. I know we haven’t talked much, like ever. But we actually see each other a lot, you know. And I feel like maybe it’s about time we get to know each other a little better.”

Maria’s eyes narrowed. “If this is about you running out on your tab last night, oh, and all those other nights before, then you can forget about it. There’s no friends and family discount, especially not for you.”

“I’m a little short right now but I will get you the money, DeLuca, I promise. You just seemed kinda sad yesterday and I wanted to make sure you were okay. You can talk to me about it, if it helps.”

Maria looked a little stunned, abruptly brought back to the heart-wrenching moment she had first learned what happened, but she quickly collected herself. “You are one of the last people I’d want to talk to about my problems, Guerin. Now please get out, I’m trying to actually work.” She turned back around to face the bar.

“I could help you,” Michael offered up in a last ditch attempt.

“You can help me by leaving. The next time I see you, you better have my money.”

* * *

Despite not having the money, Michael was back at the Wild Pony a few hours later with little energy left to try and seduce any more information out of Maria. He really just needed a drink. His mind had gone through every best and worst case scenario it could conjure up. That he had grossly misinterpreted the phone call and it was nothing. That Alex had been blown up into pieces, or left to die on the side of a road. That Jesse Manes had finally killed his least favorite son and found a way to cover it up. That Alex was alive but suffering, and alone. 

The one fragment of hope that Michael desperately held onto was the fact that Maria seemed to be holding it together, so it couldn’t be that bad, right? Alex and Maria had been really close back in school, he remembered. Hell, Michael even assumed they were dating when he first met them, and he allowed himself a small chuckle at the thought. Then again, Maria didn’t seem like the kind of person who would outwardly fall apart over anything, so who knew? Anything was still possible.

Six drinks in, Michael’s thoughts were all over the place. He thought about the dream, and what he’d said. He had always smarted at the perceived slight of Alex choosing the family business over him. But then, Michael had done the same, choosing his own extraterrestrial family and working full-time at keeping their secret, which had spawned into a web of secrets that they could no longer afford to untangle. He hadn’t really been talking to Alex at all. It had always been a self-directed sort of anger.

But now that anger needed a place to go and it sure as hell wasn’t staying inside. And here, people just made it _so easy_.

It was relatively packed for a Sunday evening, but Michael could still hear Hank saying behind him, “Look, if they didn’t want to face the consequences, they shouldn’t have come here. There’s a right way to do things. If you follow the rules, then there’s nothing to worry about...” as his friends murmured in agreement.

Michael swung around, glass in hand. “What did you just say?”

“This literally has nothing to do with you, Guerin. I’m just saying, if you commit a crime, you gotta take the punishment.”

“Oh, so if people come here from somewhere else, and they don’t have all the right paperwork, they deserve to be separated from their families and locked up in cages?”

“I mean, they knew what they were...”

The punch landed on the side Hank’s face before Michael even knew what he was doing, but he knew it felt good.

* * *

“Hey, didn’t you go to school with Alex Manes?” Deputy Cameron asked casually while passing Max’s desk. He looked up with an eyebrow raised.

“Um, yeah.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “We were in the same year, but it’s been forever. Why?”

She lowered her voice deferentially and leaned in. “I heard that he was injured in Iraq.”

“Oh, shit.” 

Max wanted to ask more questions, but his mind immediately went to Michael. Their relationship had faded, left to atrophy in the intervening years since high school, and perhaps it had been for the best, to choose apathy over open hostilities. But he couldn't shake the thought that someone should tell Michael. 

All those years ago, yes, his mind had been mostly occupied by the girl who still ended up leaving without him. But even through the heady emotions of those waning days of high school, he had still sensed that Michael was maybe going through something similar, and that something had seemed to involve Alex.

Sheriff Valenti poked her head into the room. “You-know-who is here,” she said exasperatedly, looking at Max. Speak of the devil, he thought.

Max had no interest in actually talking to Michael. The occasional, fragile peace between them was mostly for Isobel’s benefit and brokered through plain avoidance. Though Michael was a frequent visitor to the sheriff’s office, Max did his best to keep their exchanges short or nonexistent. Of course, sometimes he just couldn’t resist laying into him with a lecture or two. God knew he deserved it sometimes. But at the end of the day, neither one of them really wanted to be left in the wake of the inevitable bomb blast, wading through the debris of everything left unsaid.

In addition, Michael had never, ever mentioned Alex to Max. There was no way to bring him up without inviting conflict.

And yet. He couldn’t ignore the small, quiet voice deep inside him asking, wouldn’t he want to know? If it were Liz? After all, this was Michael. 20 years on, some old habits died hard.

“Cam. Wanna take a break?” Max asked, tilting his head towards the hallway.

“Sure, why not.” 

The vending machine was out of sight but just within earshot of the holding cell.

As Max reached for his bag of chips, he said, “So, what were you saying before about Alex?”

“Oh, yeah. Apparently, an IED hit their vehicle in Baghdad, but from what I hear he’s stable. I think he’s going to make it.”

* * *

Alex was hurt. But alive. Still, hurt. Alive. Michael couldn’t balance his feelings of both devastation and relief as they alternately surged through him. He had worried about something like this happening through all of Alex’s deployments but was still utterly unprepared now that it had finally come to pass. His head was spinning and an amorphous sort of pain was rising within him. He could no longer guarantee that the furniture wouldn’t start flying.

He leaned his head on the cold, bare wall behind him and closed his eyes.

It was like the dream began and ended in just the last few seconds before he woke. But for a brief, glorious moment, Alex was in his arms, and they were submerged in a kiss that had no beginning and no end.  
  
  


* * *

_3 months later_

“Honey, I’m home!” Isobel crooned as she knocked on the door of the Airstream before opting to turn the handle. “Oh, it’s unlocked.”

As Isobel stepped into the trailer, Michael groaned, rolling over in bed.

“It’s like 11 AM, Michael, what are you doing?”

“Trying to pretend this isn’t happening?”

“Come on, let’s do something fun. Noah’s away on business, and I’ve been so busy planning both the parade and the reunion, I just really need a day to not think about it.”

Michael sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Okay...”

Isobel’s phone rang. “Ugh, I need to get this.” She picked up. “Hello!...No, that is not going to work...the parade is next week! Okay, call me back. Bye.” She turned back to Michael and smiled. “Anyway...”

“Why are we even having a parade?” Michael didn’t really care for the answer, but it did seem kind of out of place.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Remember that kid we went to school with, Alex Manes? He’s back, like from war. Purple Heart and everything, such a hero. Well anyway, they asked me to be on the planning committee for his homecoming and I thought it sounded like fun.”

It took every ounce of strength in Michael’s body to clamp down on the visceral reaction he had to unexpectedly hearing about Alex. He wasn’t sure how convincing his feigned casualness would be, but there was no going back now.

“Purple Heart, huh? Don’t you have to be dead or really messed up to get that?”

Isobel frowned. “Yeah, I think he lost like part of his leg or something. But I mean, he’s fine now. He’s going to be at the parade, of course.”

Michael’s insides curdled instantaneously and he scrambled to the small kitchen sink to throw up. Isobel looked at him in horror.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Michael mumbled, “Sorry, Iz, I’m not gonna be any fun today. A little hungover, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Isobel took a long look at him. “Okay, fine. Michael? I love you but you really need to get your shit together,” She said, not unkindly, before tossing him a bottle of nail polish remover from her bag as she headed towards the door.

“Thanks,” Michael held the bottle up and smiled weakly as he sat back into bed.

“Let’s get dinner later.”

“Is Max gonna be there?”

“Oh, just come.”

“I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Isobel had outdone herself, per usual. For a small-town parade, she had still somehow procured a half-decent marching band along with the local motorcycle gang and the requisite caravan of law enforcement to parade down Main Street. Crowds of people were lined up on both sides, waving small American flags.

Michael found the patriotic displays rather suffocating, but he wasn’t there for all that. Wading through the crowds, scanning for any sense of familiarity, his eyes finally landed on a white tent some distance across the street. Alex was sitting in a chair, fully uniformed, looking extremely uncomfortable. Master Sergeant Jesse Manes stood next to him, along with a few other people Michael didn’t recognize. 

It was hard to reconcile the man he was staring at with the boy he had known all those years ago, all elbows and vulnerability and carefully drawn eyeliner and that inexplicable, unbridled belief in the fundamental goodness of people. But Michael kept staring at his face, and he knew. It was Alex. It would always be him.

For a split second, he thought about going up to him, just to be close to him, feel his presence, his aliveness. But as much as he didn’t fear Alex’s father anymore, there wasn’t much to be gained by crossing paths with him. Not to mention, it was presumptuous to think seeing Michael would do anything other than further upset Alex, who already looked like he wanted to be as far away from here as possible. Ultimately, the chasm between them had been growing for years and couldn’t be cleared with any simple gesture. It was still just a lot of baggage and not a whole lot to say.

In any case, he had seen it with his own eyes. Alex was okay. And that was more than enough for now.

* * *

“Hey!”

The sight of a stranger, especially from the military, so close to his Airstream—and his research—made his heart pound rapidly as he quickly closed the distance between them.

“Hey, that’s private proper...” He grabbed his arm and the man turned around.

“Alex.”

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been 15 years since I last wrote fanfiction, or anything at all for that matter, so thanks in advance for your feedback and support.
> 
> I did my best to try and keep this canon-compliant. There’s a slight implication here that Michael and Alex haven’t really seen each other at all since high school, whereas the showrunner has definitely implied there’s more story to be told during that unseen decade. So, guess we’ll find out how much this diverges in Season 3! In any case, I couldn’t help but wonder what went down in the months before the pilot so had to get this out. It just didn’t seem very likely that the meeting outside the Airstream in the pilot was the first time Michael was hearing about what happened to Alex. Thanks for reading!


End file.
